Coffe With Cream and Sugar
by Annie2
Summary: Everyone needs comfort after a funeral.


Title: Coffe With Cream and Sugar  
Author: Annie  
Category: Scully/Skinner  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and Skinner, unfortunately, belong to Chris Carter, and not to me. Add usual disclaimers, I am not making any money on this.   
Archive: wherever you wish, just keep the name.   
Feedback: is appreciated at crehnert@ptd.net

Coffee With Cream And Sugar 

by Annie

Fox Mulder was dead. 

That fact, this time, was indisputable. Dead; verifiably dead, and buried at Arlington National Cemetery, as befitted a Special Agent of the FBI killed in the line of duty on a stake-out at the nation's Capitol Building. The terrorist there, before being decimated by gunfire, had managed to take out two of the FBI's most promising members - newly-transferred Bill Watson - and Mulder. Agent Scully, fortunately, had come through the firefight unscathed - physically. 

The funeral was over, and it was pouring steadily, cold December rain, and Walter Skinner pulled over to the side of the road, peering through the gloom to find her. She was supposed to have come back to the office with Kimberly, Skinner's secretary. There was an informal, catered-from-the-local-deli gathering in the Conference Room at FBI headquarters. After a double funeral, no one wanted to go home. 

But when his secretary had appeared without Scully, Skinner had hastened to find out the reason why, all the while trying not to appear too anxious. Scully had simply refused, Kimberly said, and no amount of prodding could change her mind. 

Well, Skinner told himself, finally spotting her now through some trees, someone had to come and get her. He couldn't bear the thought of her standing in the cold rain, alone. 

She never looked until she felt the rain suddenly stop, realized only then that she was no longer alone. Her boss, big black umbrella in hand, stood silently beside her. The strong, silent type, she had always categorized him - no small-talk in the office whenever they had to go over a case report. Nothing more than a terse 'Good morning" or afternoon, or whatever when he passed in the hall. 

He stood there now, silent and waiting. 

Skinner didn't know exactly what he should do - surely he couldn't force her into his car, although he would have liked to tear her away from the new grave; she had been here way too long already, and he could see that she was soaked to the skin. Pale, fragile skin, he thought, the words coming unbidden into his brain. (Whoa, he told himself, don't even go there!). 

She looked up suddenly, as if just realizing that it was cold and wet here. "Sir?" she questioned. "You should go home, Agent Scully. You're drenched and you'll be sick soon." She took a deep, ragged breath, swiping the tears and rain from her face absently. She turned to walk away, consciously forcing herself to avoid looking back. AD Skinner simply walked along beside her, not too close, just close enough to keep her sheltered from the falling rain. 

She was more grateful for the warmth of the car than she thought she would be. She was coming back to herself now. Besides, she was in the presence of her boss, and since he was all consummate professionalism, how could she be anything less in his company. 

There were no words spoken on the 30-minute ride to Scully's apartment. By the time they got there, despite the heat in the car (he kept it on HIGH, in deference to her drenched self), she was starting to shiver uncontrollably. 

As he pulled to a stop in front of her building, she opened her small, wet purse to try and find her keys. Her hands were trembling so badly she dropped them on the floor of the car, and he bent down to retrieve them automatically, invading her space on the passenger side. "Thank you, Sir," she mumbled, teeth chattering, as she took the keys from his big, warm hand, promptly dropping them again. 

That was it. Skinner bolted from the car, forgoing the umbrella this time, and ran around to Scully's door, opening it and taking her arm gently to guide her out. He snatched the keys up again, and steered her toward the building, right to her apartment door. 

She hadn't meant to drop the keys the second time, and she wasn't sure it was the shivering that had caused it. His hand, so large and warm beside her small, cold one, had been needed human contact, and for a fleeting nanosecond, she had totally forgotten he was her boss. But now, as he unlocked her apartment door for her, she felt obliged to him - or something. 

"Thank you, Sir," she repeated. "Would you like a cup of coffee? You're wet, now, too." 

"Agent Scully," he began, but he could see she was lost, and he couldn't stand to leave her alone. 

He relented, his exterior betraying not the slightest hint of the breakdown of discipline within. 

"I will make the coffee, Agent Scully. You will get into a hot shower, and then put on the warmest clothes you can find." 

She let him follow her into the apartment thankfully, she didn't want to be alone anyway. 

"I'll show you where everything is....." she started, but he held up a hand for silence. 

"I'll find it." He declared. "Just go." 

She disappeared into what he assumed was the bedroom (Don't go there!, he warned himself again), and he found the kitchen and all the makings for coffee with cream and sugar. 

He busied himself with coffee duty, successfully pushing the thought of Dana Scully in the shower from his mind. 

Successfully, that is, until the sound of the shower, mingled with the sound of the still-pounding rain, slammed the sight into his psyche with a force that stopped his breath. Scully, Dana, in the small, hot, moist space. Dana, naked and wet - that thought alone almost made him drop the cup he was holding. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind again, but not before his brain showed him what his eyes couldn't see; Scully, her wet hair clinging to her face and her neck, her hands running along her body, Well, that was it, Skinner thought, he had to leave as soon as possible, half a cup of coffee and then he was gone. 

Scully had dried her hair and put on her warmest sweats; apparently Skinner had heard her coming, he was already pouring her coffee. She was a bit disappointed to see he had his overcoat near where he would shortly be sitting. He was in a hurry to go. 

Skinner wasn't in a hurry to go, but if he didn't get out soon, he would explode and disintegrate - it took a lot of energy to keep up this facade of the grim assistant director of the FBI. 

"Are you okay, now?" he asked solicitously, almost coolly civil, and she found herself yearning to hear warmth in his voice. Some kind of caring. 

"I'm fine," she replied, her standard answer to all such questions(I"m fine, Mulder" rattled around in her tired brain). She pushed it away. 

"I know you and Agent Mulder were close," Skinner said. "However, take as much time off you need - please take it. (Not too long, he pleaded in the back of his head.) I won't have you risk your life or the lives of others by going back into the field before you're ready." 

"Thank you, Sir. But, I won't need too much time. I would rather be working. Agent Mulder - Fox - was my partner, and my best friend. I am devastated that he's gone, but I would like to continue on in the X-Files, if possible." 

Skinner stood, he couldn't stand to watch her speak anymore, couldn't watch those perfect lips wrapping themselves around words when he thought there were much better uses for them than forming language. 

"I don't want to see you for at least a week, Agent Scully. And that's an order, " he told her, in no uncertain terms. 

But, she saw in his eyes the darkness there, she knew what it was, and she was surprised to find her insides in sudden turmoil. Skinner was jealous. Skinner thought that in Mulder's death she had lost a lover. She had to let him know his thoughts were wrong. She lowered her gaze from his face, surreptitiously caressing him all the way down with her vision. His crotch was at mouth level to her, and a sudden jolt of searing heat flashed through her. She had to stand. As she did, her boss took another step She spoke quietly. "I loved Mulder. He was like a favorite brother to me. Better even than my real brother. I was sorry for the losses and the tragedy of his life. I know that he felt the same about me. He was my partner in almost every sense of the word - I did, and do still love Mulder. But, Sir, we were NOT lovers." 

She was bathing in the nearness and the comfort of him. She didn't want him to go, she was alive, after all, and somehow, she needed to let him know. 

All she did was look at his face, look in his eyes, and he was done. She looked at his face, and stepped aside to let him pass. His hand brushed hers. Bare skin on his bare skin. 

And Assistant Director Walter Skinner, ex-Marine, Vietnam war veteran, was now defenseless. Defenseless against the onslaught of scent and sensation that was Dana Scully. 

She saw him crumbling, felt him crumbling beside her, and she slowly picked up his hand and brought it to her lips - forming a different language now. His blood boiled, he exploded into steam, exploded into action. The overcoat was on the floor in a second, and his hands were behind her head, tangled in autumn-fired silk, his mouth crushing the breath out of her, reaching and tasting with his tongue, and she slammed her body onto his, wanting every square inch possible to be feeling the heat and the har His big hands moved from the back of her head down to her waist, and then under her sweatshirt to scale the muscles of her back , feel the ribs - he slid his hands up her sides and found she was braless, and his heart almost stopped in his chest. His big, strong heart, reduced to a quivering and molten organ of ache and desire. 

His disciplined mind tried one last time to say Assistant Director Skinner and Agent Scully - a no-no, but she started to push his suit coat off his shoulders, he had to let go of her so it could slide down his arms to the floor, but she wouldn't release his mouth, ran her tongue in and all around, she would suck the life from him if she could, take more life for herself - after all, she wasn't the one who had been shot. 

She pulled off his glasses and flung them onto the table, then slid her hands down to his waist, pulling at his shirt, trying to get her hands on him, that muscular torso she had admired for so long, so secretly. He moaned into her mouth, his hands returning to her breasts - oh, God, Scully's breasts! - and he thought he was going insane with desire, thought he would die any second if he couldn't drive himself into her. 

Scully's hands ran slowly, oh, so slowly, up over his well-honed muscles, brushing his nipples, as he brushed hers, then tracking around to tickle down his spine, a sensation trailing behind, a neon-red, icy-hot branding iron, blazing her mark on his back. 

He pulled back from her just long enough to rip the sweatshirt off over her head, then dove at her neck, licking, biting, trailing fire down and across her chest, until he got one red bud of a nipple in his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his head, crushing him to her tightly, she couldn't even breathe deeply enough to get air in her lungs to moan. 

He straightened up again and looked at her face, panting, on fire. She ripped his shirt off, practically tore it from his body, then leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and smashing herself to him, naked chest to naked chest. 

"I want you," she whispered into his mouth. He almost laughed, kissed her again instead, and started walking to where he thought the bedroom was, running his hot, strong hands down into the waist of her sweatpants, and, God, she didn't have any panties on. He gripped her ass tightly, pulling her in as close as he could, almost preventing himself from forward momentum. 

She tried to grind herself onto his cock, it was so hot, and so hard, and she could feel it, despite his pants and hers, simply could not believe that her boss, her stern, tight-jawed superior was so hot for her. 

He found the bedroom and the bed, he couldn't have said how, he got there in a smoky fog of passion, dropping the two of them as one onto the big comforter. 

"Are you sure?" he asked brusquely, close to her ear, pretty certain he would strangle on his lust if she said no. 

"I'm sure," she insisted urgently, "I want you. I want you in me!" 

The words inflamed him even more, something he would not have thought possible. 

He stood away from her only long enough to pull her pants off and fling them behind him aimlessly. He started to take off his own pants, but she sat up quickly, grabbing his hands and flinging them away. She wanted to do it herself. 

Scully forced herself to go slowly, opening the belt, button and sliding the zipper down agonizingly slowly over his huge cock. He was wearing briefs, and they barely contained the heated, lust-inflamed organ. She bent to kiss it, and he put his hand in her hair and pulled to stop her. 

"Not now," he told her. "Later." 

She was thrilled to the pit of her stomach to hear that there would be a later. 

He pushed her back down, took off his remaining clothing as quickly as he could, and crushed himself back down on her - skin to skin now the entire length of their fiery bodies. 

"Do it," she urged. "Pound it into me - just pound it in!" she begged. 

He almost growled at her, smashing his mouth to hers again, reaching down between them to guide himself to the exact spot, holding just at the entrance, touching her with the head of his cock and waiting, feeling as well as hearing her whimpery, pleading moans. 

But he couldn't wait any longer, so he pushed, slowly, steadily, filling her, stretching her, she felt totally invaded, her muscles clamped viciously on his cock; Skinner's cock, it's Skinner's cock and it's in me, her mind kept telling her over and over, and when he was in, when he started to move and grind, she was done, shuddering and clutching him tightly through an intense orgasm. He was gripping her small hands so tightly, she thought they would break, and she realized he was holding it, trying not She wanted him to come, she wanted him to explode. 

Scully put her lips close to his ear and licked it, feeling his breath stop. He couldn't take anymore. 'Do it," she whispered, "Fill me up!" 

He was over the edge, his heart stopped and he came explosively, he couldn't believe this was Scully, he was in Scully - he could come in Scully. 

When his throbbing cock relaxed, when every muscle in his body stopped spasming, he kissed her again, slowly, still hungrily. "More, I want more," he whispered. 

She kissed him back. "You can have all you want. I'm not going anywhere. Later is coming soon." 

Assistant Director Skinner laughed softly, buried his hands in her hair, and began to kiss her again. 

End 


End file.
